DeadEnd Divorces
by Dividing Line
Summary: "So… I've had my clothes set on fire and you've been accused of being dead. Good ice-breaker, I've gotta say." ICHIRUKI! Anti Ichisenn/Renruki. Rated for potty mouths. ONESHOT! I do not hate Orihime/Renji/Rangiku as it may suggest.


**Just a little one-shot while I get my head around my writer's block :P **

**Warnings: Coarse language, Rangiku and Orihime bashing (I quite like Rangiku and Orihime is annoying but bearable… but hey, they have the biggest boobs in bleach!) and anti Ichisenn/Renruki.**

**Summary: "So… I've had my clothes set on fire and you've been accused of being dead. Good ice-breaker, I've gotta say." **_**Italics are flashbacks or emphasised words!**_

_**EDIT, 8TH AUGUST: A review mentioned I sound like I'm hating Renji/Rangiku/Orihime; That is not true. I like all of them! Especially Rangiku, she's hilarious. It's just that this story was a random idea that popped into my head and these characters PHYSICAL descriptions fit. Orihime is naive and batty but sweet, Ran is just a flirt and I find her funny and Renji is cool too, it's just that they fit the bill. Chill the fuck out. I'm sorry if anyone is offended but flames will be deleted. Anonymous stuff doesn't frighten me, you know. **_

"Dead, huh?" The tiny woman rolled the words around her mouth, tasting the bitterness that they brought with them.

"Oh, I'll show that motherfucker 'dead'."

How on earth had it come to this again? Oh right. Hanataro's wonderful news.

_Renji was reclining in his chair lazily, a seductive smirk highlighting his face. Across the table from him sat Rangiku Matsumoto, local blonde bombshell with tits twice the size of her head andjust as empty of brain cells. She fluttered her long, thick eyelashes as she let out a girly giggle._

"_So, how is everything with Rukia…?" She leaned forwards on the small table to rest herself on her elbows, breasts pushing up against one another as they sat on the shiny surface, almost fighting to clamber out her low-cut dress. Renji's eyes practically fell out of his head. Then his expression turned sombre. _

"_Rukia… Rukia," He let out a breathy sigh, shaking his head slightly. "She's dead, Ran'. You know how unstable she was… upped herself a few months ago," He looked pained for a moment, before adding. "Found her hangin' from the stair rail by one o' my belts." His eyed then leeched themselves back to her boisterous breasts, shamelessly staring._

_The blonde in front of him let out a gasp and immediately two well-manicured hands reached out to pull Renji head-first into her twin pillows of doom in a "hug". _

_At this point, Hanataro had seen enough. He got to his feet, determined to do the right thing, no matter if Renji was his friend._

Which brought them to the present. Her wonderful divorce with her current "husband" Renji, who was, apparently, now telling people she was dead to get pity fucks. Of course, her marriage had been great once; Renji, hot-shot lawyer meets Rukia, exciting party girl and they fall in love, get married and blah, blah more fairy tale shit. Turns out however, that when she started caring for her sick sister Hisana and couldn't go out and party, that she wasn't so fun anymore. Their marriage had crumbled quickly.

"Heh'. Only dead guy around here is going to be you, Renji." Rukia then eyed the nervous Hanataro who was stood on her doorstep, flashing him a smile. "Could you do me a favour, Hana'? Could you gimme' a sec' to get changed, then drop me off at Renji's office? I need to talk to him." Hanataro, only too happy to help the poor woman, nodded eagerly.

She beckoned him inside her dingy flat and shut the door. Not to say it was dirty or untidy… just extremely lacking of anything homey or comfortable. In the three-room apartment sat a small lounge-area with a single sofa, small rickety table and old looking TV, with a kitchenette area and breakfast bar in the corner. Behind two doors were the tiny bedroom and even tinier bathroom that also housed a pitifully small amount of furniture. Living in Rukongai flat block sucked. Rukia glanced around with a sigh.

How exactly had she gone from spending a thousand pounds on a skirt, to ending up with barely any money left to feed herself? Renji. How had she ended up being kicked out of her comfortable house with plush furniture and nice neighbours that didn't puke outside her front door at two in the morning? Renji. And now, how did the town come to believe she was dead after killing herself?

Renji, Renji, Renji. The common denominator in every fraction of shit in her life.

That bastard.

She hurried into her bedroom and took out _that_ suitcase. The one that contained all her old clothes that she'd managed to grab before he physically pushed her out the front door of _their_ home.

A few minutes later, she emerged into the living room and Hanataro turned to look at her to ask if she was ready to go. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

There Rukia stood in all her glory. Her long, creamy legs peeked out from under the sexiest of red velvet mini-dresses. Her eyes, outlined in kohl eyeliner with a touch of mascara and a hint of golden eye shadow , glowed in mirth. In one hand she clutched a small black bag that matched the kitten heels encasing her tiny feet, the other was pulled into a fist. Her bright red lips were pulled back in a sinister smirk that would have made the devil tremble.

Hell hath no fury, like a woman scorned.

"Come on then Hana. Let's show Renji and his clients just how unstable I _really_ am." The bug-eyed male followed her out of the flat helplessly as she strutted out to his car. She knew she looked good. _Damn_ good. And she was going to make Renji sorry for it.

It was only a few minutes later that they reached 'Abarai and Co.' Solicitors. Rukia got out of the car and waved to Hanataro gratefully.

"Thanks for this Hana'. I owe you one." The tiny, furious woman then turned towards her destination and strutted up to the double doors, before storming in.

At the desk in front of her sat yet another titty-airhead by the name of Orihime. Rukia was pretty sure Renji had banged her too. With her big-wide doe eyes, boobs that could have sunk the titanic and long tanned legs, most men fell at her feet. Nevermind she was nuttier than squirrel crap, with stupid fucking dopey little pot-plants on her desk.

"Hello, _Hime-chan_! Guess who?" Rukia cackled as the auburn haired female's tan skin went ashy.

"You're not supposed to be here! Get out!" She shrieked, but it was no use. Rukia was a woman on a mission. She marched up to the desk in all her confidence and with one effortless swipe of her pale arm, sent Orihime's poxy plants flying off the desk to land in a heap of soil and green on the floor.

"Best get on your knees and tend to this little problem. That's what people usually say to you, right?"

With those parting words, Rukia strode past the desk, heading for the familiar door of her husband's office. When she reached it, Rukia gazed at the name plate for a second.

"R. Abarai." It disgusted her to share his surname. Not for long though.

She raised one heeled foot and slammed it forwards into the door, sending it swinging open before storming in like a red-black-white hurricane of doom.

"RENJI."

It only took that one word for said male to lose all colour from his face. Sat at the chair opposite his desk was a man with vivid orange hair, whom had turned around to face Rukia as the door banged.

"Who's this?"

"His not-very-dead wife." Rukia snapped before Renji could even open his mouth. She watched him gape like a fish with a twisted sense of victory. His eyes constantly ravaged her beautiful form; she was a little skinnier than she had been before, but every bit as womanly. Her subtle curves that had first entranced him were just as sexy now five years later and his hungry and shocked expression showed it.

"That's right, _honey-bun_! I know all about you telling that Matsumo-'hoe' about me having hung myself from the stair banister." If possible, his face got even whiter. He was approaching translucent by this point.

Rukia then slashed her arms forwards again, sending the piles of neatly stacked files on his desk soaring into the air like lost birds. One quick flick of her foot brought the filing cabinet with all his precious information toppling over, draws falling open to spill their contents before it crashed to the floor. Flurries of white floated around the room as Rukia continued her rampage of destruction, until the only piece of furniture left untouched was the mahogany desk and the two chairs the men sat on. The deep red carpet was barely visible under the masses of legal papers.

"Fiesty. I like that in a woman." Rukia whipped her head around to the stranger sitting opposite from her husband. He winked at her cheekily and she laughed as Renji's pale face morphed into red.

"Are you insane? This is going to take weeks to re-organize! You're absolutely mad!" The raven-haired woman eyed him in amusement, before kicking one foot up on the desk, dangerously close to his face.

"Get out my office!" Rukia simply cackled.

"We're married, remember _baby_? It's half mine anyway! But you can suck my toes and I'll consider it, if you like." She laughed even harder, wiggling her heeled shoe in his face. Her estranged husband then turned to the mystery man with an aura of fury.

"And you! Get out! Handle your own divorce!" With a similar chuckle to Rukia's, the orange-haired man got to his feet, shoved his hands in his pockets and strode out; not before winking at Rukia again who blushed slightly.

Rukia smiled sweetly at Renji.

"Kicked out; I can handle. Taking every bit of money I had and making sure I could barely get a job; I can handle." Rukia steeled her gaze on Renji, who froze in place.

"But telling people I'm dead to lure women into our marital bed for pity fucks? Oh, I'm not just pissed, Mr. Abarai. No, I'm absolutely fucking _raging_."

Then her fist snapped forwards to connect with his nose. Crimson liquid, almost the same tone as his hair, gushed from it and his russet eyes met hers in shock horror at what he believed would be another weak woman he could beat down truly was. For their divorce so far, it had been working.

Not anymore.

"You've had that coming for a good six months now, Renji." Rukia used his name like it was a disgusting swearword, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she said it. "I expect to see the papers about our 50/50 divorce on Monday. I won't take anything less." And with that, she spun on her heel and strutted out the room, leaving mass destruction in her wake. It felt amazing to finally be in control.

For once, her marriage was on her terms; and Rukia _loved it._

When she had finally passed the floundering receptionist who was now talking to her half-dead pot plants (seriously, Renji had screwed that crazy thing? But then, Renji was a serial-shagger. Anything vaguely female with more boobs than brains suited him fine,) she reached into her purse and withdrew her lighter and a packet of ciggies. Lighting one up, she walked outside, only to bump into Mr. Mystery Divorcee from Renji's office. She offered him a smile and a cigarette. He took up her offer, swiping one from the packet and allowing her to reach up and light it.

After a drag, he lifted it away from his mouth and spoke.

"So… I've had my clothes set on fire and you've been accused of being dead. Good ice-breaker, I've gotta say." Rukia laughed, feeling a lot more light-hearted after her furious bitch-fit.

He smiled at her with equal mirth. "Tough divorce too?" Ichigo laughed, thinking of his purple haired, crazy-ass wife when she set fire to his clothing in the garden after she discovered another woman had texted him that 'she had had so much fun' the last time they met up, with an 'x' at the end.

It was his sister, Yuzu, talking about the Annual Kurosaki Family Picnic the previous day.

Naturally, after she had finally understood it was one of his little sisters, she was full of apologies; but it wasn't the first time and Ichigo had had enough of Senna's bat-shit crazy antics. So for the past few days he'd been living the bachelor's life in a local hotel with a suitcase of things. Needless to say, the rest of it had joined the first pile of ash. Ichigo didn't care.

"You have no idea."

"Oh I think I do." They traded worn-out smiles.

"The names Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki."

"Rukia Abarai, soon to revert back to Kuchiki." Ichigo chucked gently beside her in a deep rumble of bass. Rukia found herself quite liking his voice. "Divorces to nutters are so messed up."

"You're telling me. Here's my idea; how about we get our sorry asses down to The Horse and Rider pub, and I'll buy you a drink, Rukia?" Rukia looked up at Ichigo. With his honey amber eyes, toned physique and beautifully fitting jeans and shirt, who was she to decline such a lovely creature her company? Of course, she had noted the way he had eyed her too. The attraction was by no means one sided.

"Sure thing, Ichigo."

And that was that.


End file.
